


Eifersucht

by LexiLaboratories



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, But someone's gotta be it, Did I mention EXTREME jealousy??, I know I'm an asshole, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behaviour, Rape, Should I tag this "domestic violence"?, Smut, Suspicion, Violence, possessive thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiLaboratories/pseuds/LexiLaboratories
Summary: Jealousy.The strongest and most poisonous feeling the mind has to offer.





	Eifersucht

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER:  
> This is an attempt to describe jealousy as it evolves inside the mind; and in this case, turned into action. 
> 
> I am not in any way suggesting that either man is prone to any behaviour portrayed in this work. It is solely based on personal experience and projected onto the characters of Paul Landers and Richard Kruspe as a slash-couple.   
> No relationship is Rose-red and I know from articles that Richard can be a real control-freak. Enough said. 
> 
> Nevertheless, enjoy!  
> And don't forget to leave a comment :)

It was those small touches. Those fleeting smiles and that.. Attitude.  
Paul had always been like that, and Richard wouldn't think more of it.  
But over the past couple of months, it had been different.  
The touching had lingered just a tad too long. The smile, suspiciously intense towards Till, Schneider or another person on subject.  
Too many inappropriate jokes, too many kind favors and too many beers with either one band member or another.  
"Till, let me take a look at that back-injury"..   
"Schneider, you're so sweet when you're angry!"..   
"Sorry schatz, I can't stay overnight today. I have to be with my kids"..   
The more thought Richard put into these, seemingly meaningless situations, the more sense they made:   
Paul was seeing someone else. He had to. And everyone else seemed perfect candidates. They all seemed interested. And attracted.  
To HIS Paul Landers.   
Jolts of jealousy ripped through him like lightning cracking the sky. He felt the heat of anger rise from the very bottom of his body, all the way to his head, clouding his mind. Even though his common-sense told him how irrational it was he just couldn't acknowledge it. It was so much easier letting the anger, hate and embitterment seep through him.   
Oh, and how they branched themselves through every aspect of his mind, body, organs, veins..  
He watched Paul as he conversed with Till. The way their body language gave them away: Paul leaning in, slightly. Till, mimicking Paul’s arm that rested on the table. Saying something.. Making Paul laugh all over the table. The way only Paul did it.   
And then, Till’s big, muscular arm padding Paul’s back as he left the table, smiling.   
Richard clenched the coffee-mug in his hands and his knuckles turned white.  
He hated the way it made him feel. How he felt inferior. Inadequate. Hesitant and uncertain in everything he did.   
Not in any way how he usually represented himself to others.   
He simply had to be the best. To make Paul want him the most. No, to make him need him..  
No one was to be allowed to touch his Paul like that. NO ONE.  
And he wanted to exclaim the severity behind those words. 

They would spend the evening together at Richard’s place, relaxing on the couch.   
Paul was at his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Richard asked, as casually as he could muster.

“I’m just texting. I’ll be with you in a moment,”

Texting who..

“Must be some text. You’ve been at it for 5 minutes straight.”

“Yeah. ‘tschuldigung, Schneider asked me to talk to that new director of the upcoming music-video. Y’know, he’s a rookie and-”

“Seriously? And why the hell couldn’t he do that himself, huh?”

“It’s just a text, Richard. I said I’d be done in a moment, jees.. Besides, why’re yo-” Paul began, but Richard’d had it. No more fucking lies. 

“No, you know what? Spare Schneider the fucking effort and be the great guy with all the favors, why don’t you. In fact, why don’t you just go and spend the night at his place instead. Now you’re at it, there must be some other favors you could take care of, since you’re so fucking fond of being that little pleaser, you are!”

Paul had slowly moved away from the couch and was now standing, phone tucked away in his pocket, and staring at Richard with disbelief and consternation painted across his features. 

“Rich.. What are you implying..” Paul asked, almost inaudibly, furrowing his brows at Richard’s icy expression.

“No, don’t give me that bucket of horseshit! Do you think I’m blind? Do you think I’m fucking blind, Paul?!”

Richard flew up from the couch, almost flipping over the coffee table with his aggressive, primal body language. He stomped towards Paul, the same attitude affecting his walk, his stance and his appearance. The anger had completely overtaken him and his head and mind rushed with the high of white-hot enmity.  
Paul startled at the sudden change of behaviour and backed, just slightly. Richard noticed how his eyes widened and found the reaction obscenely satisfying. There was no way he wouldn’t succeed in making Paul confess tonight. 

“I’m not someone you fuck around with, some.. Some..” His vocabulary for describing what he felt like was totally insufficient and he paused, briefly.   
“You know what? I should have known this. You.. With your carefree attitude, du kleine Betrüger.. I’ve seen how you have your way with the other guys.. It was only a matter of time before you started screwing someone else.”

His stomach churned as he let his poisonous words seep out in the open. A pressuring, humid silence fell over them. But there was no turning back now.   
Richard couldn’t quite read the expression on Paul’s face; he seemed shocked. Angry. Disappointed. And perhaps most of all: hurt.   
The smaller man moved back towards Richard, closing the gap between them. He looked slightly upwards, as the lead guitarist surpassed him by a few centimeters, and answered, voice trembling with confined anger:

“Now, you know what.. I just might.”

Richard’s instincts responded quicker than his brain. With the power of all the pent up jealousy and bitter emotions he’d kept at bay, the back of his right hand collided with Paul’s right cheek, sending him directly to the floor with a loud, violent thud.  
Flared up from the negatively loaded adrenaline-rush, Richard forced the man down by lowering himself onto him, straddling him.   
He framed Paul’s face by the jaw and forced him to turn his gaze towards him.  
Paul’s bruised, red-glowing cheek and bloodied nose complimented his features, wrinkled in pain.  
Richard leaned down, bringing his own face close to the other’s, making sure his own expression was an icy contrast to his erupting insides.   
He looked deep into those pretty, treacherous eyes of his. 

“Don’t you dare, Paul Landers.. Don’t you.. FUCKING.. Dare..” he spat, unable to conceal how devastated he was.   
“You’re MINE. You belong to me, and you will never.. Belong to anyone else. I’m the only one who can touch you as I please, fuck you as I please, kiss you as I..”

Richard trailed off as his face came closer and closer to his lover’s.  
His mind was a chaotic, nonsensical mess. A big, tangled knot of emotions, thoughts and illusions;  
His anger felt like a bleeding wound, the pain pulsating through him like blood. He felt completely overwhelmed.   
At this very moment, he wanted to take control of Paul. Prevent him from seeing others without him. Watch where he went, what he did, whom he texted, met up with and what relation they had.   
Tie him up, lock him in, let no one touch or talk or in any way affect him with their mesmerizing words.  
He knew how insane this was; He wasn't a fucking maniac. But he couldn't keep it under control.

He hit Paul’s face hard with his flat hand again, once.  
“Fuck you, Paul! FUCK YOU!”  
He hit twice. The other side.  
“Du blödes Hurensohn, blödes Drecksau, blödes..”  
A third hit. Fourth. Fifth.  
And then crashed his lips hard against Paul’s. 

He expected to meet resistance and held Paul’s arms down before it happened. Just faintly, Paul subconsciously gave in to the kiss, having danced the dance numerous times before.   
Richard turned it to his advantage as he surprised him by quickly flipping him over, face flat against the cold, wooden floor. Something deep inside him would rather not look him in the eye.  
Paul finally began to utter verbal objections.  
He began shouting for Richard to cut it, to stop his madness, to come to his senses.. But it was too late.  
It was very much too late.  
He tore his helpless lover’s pants down in one quick motion. With the same hand, he clicked his own belt open, freeing his erection. No time nor need for preparation. This was not loving. This was claiming.  
He slammed the head of his cock barbarically into Paul’s unprepared entrance, sheathing himself totally between his buttocks.  
Paul screamed out in pain, his voice echoing through the rooms in the sizable apartment.  
Richard just kept going despite the rough feeling of unwanted intercourse against his shaft, thrust by thrust. And whimper by whimper.

“Does it hurt, huh, Paulchen? You don't like my cock up your tight, dry asshole? Strange, you’re usually very compliant when I do this..”

He angled his next thrust just right for hitting Paul’s sweet spot, earning an involuntary moan of something sounding like pleasure. Richard chuckled hoarsely, darkly.

“I bet neither Till nor Schneider feel like this.. Do they fuck you this way? Are their cocks this big?!” He almost growled as he impaled his defenseless victim.

Paul’s futile pleas for help brought Richard closer and closer to his release; he felt in control. He felt powerful. Strong. His Paul no one else’s his property his mate his pet his sextoy hisprettylittleplaything his lover his.. Darling.  
Richard’s eyes flew wide open at the last mentally visualized word.   
He startled as his mind cleared from it's carnal state and he spasmed involuntarily; A tidal wave of bizarre pleasure showered over him as he came deep inside Paul and his voice cracked.  
The orgasm was brief, almost painful, and he collapsed on Paul, breathing heavily.  
His mouth was sticky with saliva and he swallowed awkwardly. A lump began shaping up in his throat. Blocking his airways. Causing his breath to hitch. He buried his face in Paul’s back and blinked aggressively.   
Why this feeling? Why the sudden feeling of..  
He forced himself on his knees, shaking, as his refusal to look Paul in the eyes before was replaced with a strong desire to do just that. He flipped him over yet again, back against the floor.  
Cracked lip. Bleeding nose. Black eye.. No, black eyes. Bleeding bruises from where the ring on Richard’s index finger had hit.   
And then one look into his eyes. Hesitantly.   
One look and his guts contracted.

He didn't do a thing.   
Paul hadn't been unfaithful.

The realization hit him. Harder than any fist could have ever done.   
He collapsed again. His hands balled into fists as he pressed them against Paul’s chest.   
He gritted his teeth, grinding them as to not exposing himself. To not show the ultimate sign of vulnerability. The sign of defeat.

“Paul.. I don't.. I didn't.. Blödes fucking Gott, Paulchen..” He mumbled with croaked voice against his warm, sweaty chest.

And he broke.  
He cried. Not hard. Nor loud. He hissed discretely to avoid sobbing as the materialization of his regret fell silently, soaking the skin underneath.   
At once, he wanted to repent. To let his lover know. To express it verbally.  
He just couldn't. He couldn't admit it to himself.

“I hope you'll be able to, Richard.”

Richard looked up, bewildered. How..?  
Paul didn't look him in the eyes as he spoke. He looked away.  
His voice was unrecognizable. Flat and monotonous. Without feeling. 

Richard knew he was a control-freak. He could be a bastard. A jerk. A complete asshole sometimes. But he never realized the monster he could become when exposed to such a malicious feeling as jealousy.   
Seeing Paul, lying there. Without doing a thing. Seeing his face, so totally deprived of affection, love, even emotion.  
It tore at him and hurt as if barbed wire had tangled with his insides.  
The cooking jealousy.  
And Paul might never really forgive him for it.


End file.
